ÀṢÀKẸ́

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I struggled for a few minutes to have a breathing space. It was a really uncomfortable moment for me, with sweats breaking out from my forehead and neck.

"Well, I killed your grandmother, now I have done same to your mother!"

"What?! You did what?!"

"You heard me right, I murdered your mother", he smirked. I didn't really understand what was going on, but I sure was tensed.

"Shhhhhkrshhhhhhhhhhhhh", the television blacked out again! This was the third time its antenna shook, which caused it to black out; it only made noise and displayed black and white images that looked like dusts. Everyone murmured out of frustration, some left. It was one of the series we saw from the first television that was installed. One series I personally enjoyed was Papa Ajasco; a comical series that had funny characters like Pa James, Mama Ajasco and others. We never missed the happiness papa Ajasco offered us every Friday, 6PM. Other series included fortunes, ripples, and it was some time later, when few other houses had their television installation, that we enjoyed super story. We would usually sing along, "This is super stoooryyyy!...", the remaining part of the lyrics depended on how much attention you have paid, but most of us murmured around that part and muffled the words.

Through the window, I looked and saw, how my sit mate in school (remember this was her house) had such close relationship with her father. It didn't mean much to me that it was her grandfather that killed my grandmother, at that moment, I envied her. My family was at the verge of collapsing, and màámi was talking about a lover, which confused me the more. She went out to see someone, so I made use of the opportunity to see a movie or two, to ease my mind before she returned.

I heaved a sigh and fought my way out of the multitude of people who had also come to see a movie. I dragged my feet all along the way back home.

Seated outside the house on a stool was màámi, with her gaze up, and an unusual broad smile on her face. It could be that she appreciated nature as much as I did, or the thought of her new 'lover' brought her joy. She held on her right hand, the big book. The wrist beads she usually wore were no longer on her wrists. I reached out for a nearby stool and sat beside her. She placed her hand on my shoulders, and I rested my head on hers. I caught a glimpse of her skinny face and her nicely curved brows. Màámi was young but very strong, her strength was like that of a man. I couldn't help but notice how visible her eyesocket almost became; she had burdened herself with much thinking and stress, it had adverse effects on her weight. We both stared at the sky, at the sun saying its goodbye, bidding us farewell for the day.

"Màámi? Tani Jésù?" (Mummy, who is Jesus?), I asked. The question flew out of my mouth as it entered my head, there was no thought process involved. She smiled even broader.

"Àṣàkẹ́, ọ̀rẹ́ mi ni, olólùfẹ́ẹ̀ mi ní, olùgbàlà mi tú ni" (Asake, he's my friend, he's my lover, he's also my saviour), she replied.

"Olùgbàlàa yín?" (Your saviour?), I lifted my head off her shoulder and stared confusedly at her.

"Bẹ́ẹ̀ni" (Yes).

"Óda o. Àtìgbàwo lẹti mọ̀wọ́n?" (Okay o. Since when have you known him?). I became more curious.

"Èmí ṣẹ̀ṣẹ̀ mọ̀ wọ́n. Àmọ́, òhún tí mọ̀ mí tipẹ́ tipẹ́, káláyé tó dáyé" (I just got to know Him. But, He has known me since, before the world was made), she said flicking her fingers. We have ourself a stalker, màámi was so much in love, she even exaggerated how long this man had been stalking her; these were my thoughts. I didn't understand what she meant, and I couldn't wait to meet this man so I could convince him to leave my mother alone.

For the final question, I asked, "báwo lẹṣe pàdé" (how did you meet).

When màámi left, crying earlier in the afternoon, she had no destination in mind. All she wanted was serenity and seclusion to cry and properly express her heartache. She sat under a barren mango tree, at a place where she expected no one to be at the time she went there.

As she wept, she received an unexpected visitor; a man who couldn't go his way without paying a samaritan visit. She wiped her tears pretending as though nothing had happened. This man happened to be one of the 'fanatics', as we thought them to be, who went around in baggy trousers and skirts with megaphones on Saturday mornings, preaching about 'Jesu' (see Chapter 7 for reference). He pestered her to tell him what was wrong, but she snubbed him and repeatedly hissed at him. When she saw how he persisted, she threw insults and curses at him, hoping he would leave, but he didn't. What she didn't need was another man who would take the little that was left of her life. His annoyance had topped her zenith, and she couldn't bear it any longer, so she stood to leave, but he grabbed her by her arm and begged her to tell him. She struggled to let go, but he seemed to care so much to let her be. She didn't know when she hit him and pushed him, till he fell on the floor. Màámi wasn't a woman given to violence, unless when it was necessary, so she was moved by sympathy for him. She stopped and stared at him on the floor, not knowing whether to go or stay and apologize. She feared he would hit her back as he struggled to regain his stamina, rather, he requested she shared her heartache with him, and even promised a solution. He was able to convince her, and she narrated all that befell her to him. His sympathy was so genuine, it brought her soul a little comfort. It was after she spoke that he talked to her about Jesus, and how He's a solution to all her problems. After some minutes of engaging her, he succeeded in making màámi a fellow fanatic. It was hard to believe; she abandoned all her protective beads and the little ṣìgìdì (figurine) that she prayed to and kept under her bed, and she never let go of the book in her hand, one she called "Bíbélì mímọ́" (Holy Bible).

It made absolutely no sense to me, who found it hard to piece out all she told me. I dreaded the thoughts of màámi in a parachute skirt with a megaphone in her hand and other villagers avoiding her. I also got to know that the 'someone' she went to see while I watched television was this same man. She couldn't read, so he read the Bible to her.

"Àjọkẹ́", bàámi called in his calm tone as he approached us. As she sighted him, màámi's countenance changed. Her widely spread lips soon compressed with a straight frown, she adjusted her wrapper, stood up, hissed and stormed in. The penitence was evident in his repentant eyes. He didn't insist on his right, but he felt bad for what happened. There were many men who were married to as many as four wives in the village, and for them it meant nothing. Bàámi also walked inside, and I could judge from his look he wanted to apologize. But all I heard from where I sat outside were arguments, noise, and more noise. I stared blankly at the moon who stole a gaze from the sky which gradually turned dark, and heaved a deep sigh.

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